Midnight Demons
by Mandella King
Summary: AU. The war is over and Voldemort is in power. Draco Malfoy has risen within the ranks of the new Ministry, whilst Ginny Weasley, her family dead, is a cage dancer at a wizarding nightclub.


'When you are well and truly lost, let the story begin.'  
(Terri Witek- Conte Bleu.)

"Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!"

She was late for work again! Her cheap, old Muggle alarm clock had failed to wake her! Thus, a highly flustered, unwashed, disheveled Ginny Weasley was tearing down an alley, in what appeared to be a skimpy costume of some description.

She could only hope, as she attempted to sneak into a nondescript building through the side entrance, that her boss Stella had been too busy this evening to notice her absence yet. Ginny couldn't afford to lose this job. It had been hard enough to get in the first place, she remembered.

The wizarding world had changed dramatically since the victory of Voldemort over a year ago, as had Ginny's life. She was the only surviving Weasley. Like so many other witches and wizards, she had lost everything important in her life in a few short months: her parents, brothers, friends, and boyfriend Harry. All died fighting desperately for a cause they had believed in. Ginny, who had been protected and not allowed to fight in any battles, had survived as a result.

She didn't remember much of the weeks following the Death Eater takeover. She had vague recollections of her father's funeral, the first of her family to be killed. Ginny had wanted to rip Fenrir Greyback limb from bloody limb with her bare hands afterwards. When her father was placed in his casket, Ginny had been allowed a few minutes alone to say goodbye. As she gently touched her father's cold forehead, all life drained from his features, she truly realized he was gone. She could barely see through her tears. Yet, with each funeral that passed, she cried less and less. Even when her mother and the twins were killed in an attack explosion she remained numb. At Charlie's funeral she hadn't wept at all. She stood alone as his coffin was lowered into the ground and had simply felt empty, as though she hadn't enough will left in her to cry, and completely alone in the world.

It had taken the help of Ginny's best friend Colin to get her living again. Colin's little brother Dennis died in the same explosion that killed the twins and her mother. In the aftermath of the war, the two had clung to each other as life rafts, trying to save each other from drowning.

They had become flat mates, and it was Colin who had secured Ginny her current job. They both worked at a magical nightclub, Palantir, a wizarding social hotspot. It was notoriously difficult to get into, only allowing those high up in Voldemort's favours, senior members of the new Ministry of Magic, or the extremely influential, pureblooded and wealthy. Colin bartended whilst Ginny, well… Ginny danced. There were several large metal cages magically suspended throughout the nightclub. Ginny had imagined them as oversized, sensual, moving ornaments. Merely decorations for the club, to be looked at but never touched. Only beautiful, exotic pureblooded girls were hired to writhe and dance in them. Stella, the manager, had been looking for new girls (pureblooded girls in need of work were scarce, never mind beautiful ones), and Colin had persuaded her to give Ginny the job.

Ginny had no illusions: her face was quite plain and she was short, but she had full, rounded hips and breasts and waist length, flaming red hair. Her hair gave her an ethereal, sensual look, and she was certain it was the only reason she got the job. She supposed they had wanted to cater to all tastes and she was the only redheaded dancer they had.

Ginny was grateful it was not a whole load worse. At least at Palantir she could keep her clothes on. Granted, her costumes were barely there, but at least all the important bits were covered, she thought. Girls who were only half-blooded were finding it hard to get jobs and Ginny knew that in the seedier areas such as Knockturn Alley, they were doing a similar job to herself, only much worse.

Ginny silently snuck through the darkened, almost empty club, throwing her cloak in the direction of the empty bar. The doors didn't open till half seven and the only present occupants were the staff. She was supposed to be in her cage before the doors opened. She only had a minute to spare, but somehow she made it, ungracefully climbing into the metal enclosure and shutting the door.

She glanced surreptitiously towards the bar at Colin, who had spent the day with his boyfriend. He frowned at her for being late. She motioned towards her cloak and he glared at her, before moving to retrieve it, then gave her a quick thumbs up to indicate that she had successfully made it without Stella spotting. Some of the other bar staff and dancers had, but Ginny knew that they wouldn't say anything. Like her, they were grateful for the jobs they had and would also be in trouble if they lost them.

She tugged at her top, more like a bikini top than anything else, and adjusted herself to being inside the cage. She could never get used to it.

A sudden, unbidden image flashed in her mind, of Muggles in cages being tortured by Death Eaters. But, as quickly as the horrific thought had come she shook it away. She had decided sometime ago that life was unfair by nature. She wasn't going to fight any battles. As Colin had put it, they were only going to look out for themselves.

She was snapped out of her thoughts with a jolt. A gong had sounded throughout the club, signaling that the doors were about to be opened. The music started and Ginny took her cue to start dancing.

She closed her eyes and sighed, concentrating on moving her body slowly and provocatively. It would be a long night, no bathroom breaks or resting until the early hours of the morning.

From behind the bar, Colin watched Ginny dance. He mentally noted that he would have to remind her not to be late again. She couldn't afford to become unemployed, not now that he was moving out.

Several months ago Colin's boyfriend Justin was attacked by three wizards, simply because they had recognized him as Muggleborn. Colin had rushed to St. Mungo's, to find Justin in full leg-casts and covered in bruises from vicious punches and hexes.

They both acknowledged that as Muggleborns, the wizarding world was no longer safe for them. Justin had decided to move back home to America and had asked Colin to come with him.

The decision had been a difficult one for Colin. He was in love with Justin, but also loved Ginny, who would be all alone if he left. He would also no longer be able to practice magic.

Eventually Ginny had agreed that Colin should follow his heart to America. She had been upset at losing her friend and scared of being left by herself, but wanted her friend to be happy. She knew they would be safer in America.

Privately though, Ginny was slightly angry. She couldn't help but feel a little resentment and hurt at being abandoned by her best friend. She thought of the time after their families had died and they had first moved in together. They had promised to be there for each other always, no matter what.

"How can he always be there for me when I'll never see him?" she thought bitterly. "He'll be on the other side of the world! In a Muggle one as well."

In truth, Colin was Ginny's only real friend. Under the new regime she had learnt to keep herself to herself. This left her with no one else to move in with, and thus she was faced with the prospect of finding somewhere to live on her own. Not only was she struggling to find somewhere she could afford, but she was also worried about living solo. There were so many lawless Death Eaters that it wasn't safe for a lone female in the wizarding world, even if she was a pureblood.

Ginny's worries were mounting daily as her search for a flat continued. There was no way she could earn enough to pay both rents of her current place, yet the places she had visited so far were vastly out of her price bracket, too run down and filthy, or in dangerous areas. She was beginning to think she would have to resign herself to living in a dirty, cramped little bedsit above a Death Eater hangout, or become homeless.

She had briefly considered looking at Muggle leased flats, but dared not risk it. Even looking could have earned her a spell in Azkaban, where the Dementors reigned supreme.

Although Colin had assured her that she would be sorted out before he moved, it hadn't been as easy as he'd thought. Colin and Justin were due to leave in a few short weeks, and Ginny still had nowhere to go.

Her only option was to work all the hours she could get at the club, keep checking the wizarding property pages, and hope for a miracle. Meanwhile, she had her fingers crossed that Colin would change his mind.

The club had been open for a few hours when Ginny noticed something was up. She didn't dare stop dancing, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Stella greeting a group of hooded and cloaked wizards at the club's entrance.

This was an unusual occurrence. Stella only ever deigned to leave her office to greet a small select number of patrons, the most famous or wealthiest. World famous Quidditch players or singers such as Lysander Vaughn of the Kenmare Kestrels, or Aurora Quentin and Drusilla Elfman of the pureblooded girl band Witch Haven. Ginny couldn't tell who these VIP guests were. It wasn't unheard of for well-known wizards or witches to wear cloaks and hoods to the club to avoid being recognized or photographed.

Ginny gyrated and slowly turned her body to face the bar area. As she suspected, Stella had escorted the group to the magically cloaked VIP area of the club and Ginny spotted Colin follow them in, carrying several large bottles of undoubtedly expensive champagne.

Ginny wasn't the only one who had watched the wizards disappear behind the magical veil. She could sense the atmosphere of Palantir subtly shift. It became a shade darker, tenser, a touch more desperate.

Everyone was aware that the mysterious arrivals must be very important people; not just anyone qualified for entrance to the VIP spot. It required a very significant amount of wealth, power, or fame to be admitted to the exclusive area.

The VIP area was invisible from the rest of the club, but not the other way round. Ginny was aware that the other cage dancers had stepped up their game. The wealthy clients could see them, and could be very generous to a dancer if they wished to be.

Ginny forced herself not to wrinkle her nose in distaste at this thought. She reminded herself not to be so judgmental. She understood that as tough as she thought her life was, there were other girls worse off. Although there were strict rules about the girls interacting with club-goers, exceptions were often made for very important clients.

If a wealthy wizard liked one or more of the dancers, they would be requested (and paid) to dance on a small platform in the VIP area. Usually the girls were then invited to talk and drink at the wizard's table. Although the club's official stance was to forbid girls to do anything of a personal nature with guests, the fact remained that what they arranged to do after hours was their own business. The wizards knew that most of the beautiful witches would be willing, and incredibly discreet. Many girls were only too happy to be handsomely paid for their services.

The thought of being paid for sex repulsed Ginny. Since she had started work she had received several large tips along with discreet invitations to the private room. She nearly always smiled and declined respectfully, continuing to dance in her cage. However, there had been two or so times when Ginny had accepted an invitation, needed the extra galleons. She was well paid and tipped for dancing in the small room, and talking to the wizard afterwards. When the subtle offer to accompany them back to a hotel room arose, she had politely passed. She wasn't obligated to agree to sleep with them, thank Merlin, but knew better than to overreact and upset any of them either.

The hours dragged on, and the tension in the club was palpable. Seven girls had been summoned from their cages to the hidden room. Bar staff carried trays of champagne and platters of canapés to the exclusive room in a steady stream. The girls remaining continued to dance as though they hadn't been on their feet for hours. Each witch waited with bated breath to see which dancer, if any, would be chosen next.

Ginny found herself joining in, dancing faster, sexier.

She hated herself for wishing the wizards behind the veil would find her attractive and call upon her, yet she thought desperately of the extra money she would earn. The wizards in the club tonight were obviously the wealthiest or most powerful to have ever visited the club. Ginny was willing to bet that the chosen girls were being tipped fifty or even one hundred galleons at a time!

However, time passed and Ginny was not chosen. Four more girls had passed into the room and the club was beginning to empty. The night finally ended when the music stopped and the lights came on. Ginny's cage door magically sprang open.

Stepping down, Ginny sighed. She was more than disappointed. The elite group had not yet left the club. Obviously the night was not yet over for them. Ginny tried not to feel inadequate and jealous of the other girls, yet couldn't help but think that tonight had been a golden opportunity to earn enough for a deposit on a decent flat. She resumed worrying about what she was going to do about that.

She retrieved her cloak and waited behind the bar for Colin to finish cleaning up. It had been a tiring night for them both, and they were longing to get home to sleep.

From the plush velvet darkness of the shrouded VIP area, a handsome blond wizard watched a petite red haired witch as she danced. The minute he had been brought to the club his insides had churned, and he had prepared himself for an unpleasant night. As a newly inducted member of Voldemort's inner Ministry he had been expected to accept the invitation to the club by the fellow members. It was known to him that Palantir employed beautiful witches to dance skimpily clothed in cages, but it was only rumoured amongst the well informed that wizards could pay the girls to sleep with them. He had been faintly disgusted when he learned that this was true; he sneered at the ill-disguised glee on the faces of his compatriots. "Perhaps the same could not be said for them", he thought wryly.

His host had assured him that every girl was of pureblood, not that this mattered to him in this context of course. Pureblooded or not, they were little better than up market whores. They had probably been fucked by and given sexual favours to countless men. The young wizard could think of nothing more repulsive than paying a woman for her services. Had he wanted sex, he thought, rest assured he would not need to pay for it.

His colleagues had invited more and more girls into the room, until they were practically all paired off. His stomach lurched when the older wizard next to him pulled a young brunette witch onto his lap, and proceeded to push his tongue down her throat. Worse still, she didn't seem to protest.

The blond wizard promptly moved away from the group to sit on his own, hoping that the club would close soon so he could exit anonymously.

Sitting at a private velvet and silk covered booth he sipped his firewhiskey (having declined the champagne), and looked out onto the dance floor. He had to admit, the cage dancers were very beautiful witches. This fact however, no longer held any draw for him. He'd dated countless similar witches before. They were pureblooded and beautiful yes, but also vapid, gold digging mannequins. He was thoroughly bored of pretending to be interested in these women. Even randomly shagging them was no longer fun.

Then, as he ordered another drink from a passing waiter, he spotted a vividly red haired dancer to the side of the dance floor. He wondered how he hadn't noticed her before, with her shock of flame coloured tresses. Why, he hadn't seen a head of hair that colour since…

Suddenly it struck him. The last time he had seen that hair was in school, on his enemy's best friend, a Weasley. He looked closer at the witch in question, concluding that there was no doubt about it- the hair and freckles marked her as a definite Weasley. He has thought that their entire family had died in the war, but there she was, the littlest Weasel.

For the first time that night a genuine smile appeared on the wizard's face. He took in her outfit- a belt of a skirt and a bikini top. He watched in silence as she swayed her hips in time with the music, hands gripping the cage bars or holding her long hair above her hear as she twirled. The little Weasley had definitely grown up.

As the lights came on in the main club he continued to watch her as she climbed out of the cage and over to the bar area. He watched her with a strange half smile until she disappeared out the back exit.

The other businessmen of his group were continuing to party. They were sitting all over the VIP area in various states of undress being pleasured by the girls. They were more than intoxicated. Using this to his advantage, the blond wizard donned his cloak and raised the hood to leave the club unnoticed. He knew he wouldn't be missed. If they asked him how his night had went he could easily lie, boasting of the beautiful dancer he had bedded. They wouldn't be able to tell if he was telling the truth or not.

Outside, he dismissed the waiting carriage curtly, deciding to walk instead and get some air. Curiously, the entire way home Draco Malfoy couldn't shake the image of soft curves and flame coloured hair.


End file.
